Kids In America
by BabyGecko
Summary: He was a boy. She was a girl. It couldn't be further from obvious. xxxx Toni and Jughead in FP's trailer after his initiation, Toni trying to help Jughead. My interpretation of that scene in 2x05.


He was a boy.

She was a girl.

It couldn't be further from obvious.

Toni wasn't quite sure _what_ exactly she was expecting (hoping) to be obvious. The two of them. What had transpired between Jughead and his girlfriend - ex-girlfriend - Betty. Jughead knowing exactly what he'd gotten himself into.

The gloomy backdrop of the two of them wasn't assisting with presenting any sudden new clarity onto all the uncertain thoughts that swam around in her mind. Thick, heavy drops of rain was drenching the known world outside, practically invisible against the velvet night's sky, with constant hollow tinny raps against the, very nearly, leaking steel roof of FP's trailer.  
A dark, stormy night indeed; one to be saved for the books.

Toni winced slightly as she handed Jughead an icepack, which he took silently, stoically looking at the window. Sure, she'd seen her fair share of initiations, as bullshit and unnecessary as they were, but brass knuckles shouldn't of been anywhere in sight for "the Gauntlet". The whole point of that aspect was to receive punches, yeah, to show that you would go through shit defending your own, but it was mostly for a metaphorical sense and theatrics. Not to nearly knock the poor boy damn unconscious.

A gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach had a feeling Sweet Pea was just trying to take out his vendetta that he had with the Andrews kid on the next best thing. A large part of her argued that that was unfair. A smaller, guiltier, part of her agreed. Not with everything Sweet Pea did; pipe bombs included in that bracket. But for the North Side related views...it was pretty damn hard to find anyone who didn't agree.

Airy fairy North Side kids who probably said things like _gee whiz!_ and were scrubbed up to fit the perfect cereal box Happy Family ads, had a twisted sort of view of people like herself. A neat, precise, nicely _evil_ sort of poison, smiling as they beat the South Side down, telling the world that it was for the best. A nasty, warped sense of perspective of them all. Thought that she was _dirty_ , that that she was _trouble_ , thought that she was a _problem_ for just existing on the same fucking planet as them, and that _problems_ such as herself, such as everyone she knew, were best swept under the rug. Preferably vilified.

And it was apparent that Jughead was finally starting to see that. He kept on trying to insist that he could keep ties with the North Side and the Serpents, which had irritated her beyond no end. She'd though that for someone apparently so smart, he had an incredibly idiotic, idealistic outlook on his situation. If it was that damn easy, then there would be no such thing as the unbearable tension between the two parts of town. They would all be able to skip merrily into the fucking sunset holding hands.

When she'd pointed this out to him, he'd hotly described her as pessimistic.  
 _Yeah, maybe,_ she'd retorted, crossing her arms and staring down his scowl. _But it's a view cemented in reality. It's a view that keeps you alive._

Tough love. Firm, but fair.

As the rain fell against the trailer, the slightest creeping sensation of regret seeped into herself. If the kid was good at something, it was how to look good miserable.  
A desk lamp artfully cast shadows across his face, the rest of the empty trailer serving as a aesthetic backdrop in a blueish hue, his new tattoo catching the light just so.

But the look on his face was _crushing_. It was the expression of someone had been beaten down, over and over again, but that final sense of resolve, of something to make himself pick himself up again, had snapped. Privately, she had theorized he had only gotten back up during the final part of initiation with the intention to get beaten black and blue to distract him from whatever had been on his mind. It clearly hadn't work, either.

 _What a pair they made,_ Toni thought, exchanging a few words with Jughead in a pitiful attempt to try and glean information about what had happened exactly between him and Betty. They weren't a thing anymore. Apparently. _The two looser kids. Wallowing._

Wallowing had been her go to method of dealing with shit growing up. Eavy emphasis on the past tense. Joining the Serpents, which had taught her that life wasn't going to change if she just wished it would, had actually showed her that she needed to grow up. Tough love. Again. Probably where she learnt it from. Definitely hadn't been from her parents. She learnt jack shit from those guys.

Then, she'd learnt other methods of dealing with her shit; distraction. Definitely shot term solution, but she preferred to get whatever crazy fucking garbage was happening in her life at the time out of her mind to deal with in the morning.

 _Not today_. That's what she always told herself, when she chose to mindlessly make out with whoever was looking for the same, boy or girl.  
The prospect of tomorrow was so inviting, allowing herself a single night to wash away whatever she was struggling with, to then tackle head on the next day. And besides, it was so blissfully therapeutic loosing oneself with someone else who was suffering, and in the South Side, people with backgrounds of trauma looking to take their mind off their miserable life were practically crawling around.

 _Not today,_ she always chanted in her mind, whenever she lazily dragged her tongue across her decided partner for that night. _Not today_.

It was no different when she kissed Jughead. _Not today_. For both herself and him. He could imagine he was kissing Betty or whatever, she didn't particularly care. The boy could do with the kiss whatever he damn pleased, but he didn't pull away. Part of her thought that maybe he would, from being so devoted to the perky blonde, but clearly she was right in thinking that he was also just looking for a mindless distraction.

Herself? It didn't have to be anything specific. Just a brief moment of escapism and pretending that she didn't have the life she did, in the part of town that was despised, always having to be so so cautious in fear of getting wrongly accused and arrested for whatever the dumb police department liked to dream up to control the South.

Toni pulled herself away when she felt something wet on her cheeks.

"Not today," she ordered Jughead, scrunching up part of her sleeve to wipe fast flowing tears from her new fellow gang member friend. "Whatever it is you're feeling, deal with it tomorrow. Allow yourself one night where you can cry, kick and scream, go to town to take your mind off things-"

"I'm asexual," Jughead croaked out, breath hitching as he scrubbed furiously at his eyes.

"Jesus, I wasn't suggesting you to pimp yourself out into the world. I just- look, it doesn't matter. You feel shitty?"

He nodded, throwing off his beanie to run is hands through his hair.

"Then feel shitty. You want to cry? Then cry. You want to make out with someone, _not_ sleep with someone, to take your mind off things? Go crazy. But only for tonight. 'Cause tomorrow, we're hauling that pretty ass of yours to go see Betty."

Eyes glassy with tears, he blinked at her. "We are?"

Toni had to refrain from sighing and rolling her eyes. Dear god, it was a pain in the ass to be a saint sometimes.

"Listen, I may not know Betty as well as you. I'm not pretending I do. But, hello, she got sent a _coded message_ from a killer. Does it sound more like Betty to suddenly give up on you out of the blue or to be trying to distance you from herself to protect you from a killer?"

This actually earned her a smile. Then it dropped within a heartbeat. "What if you're wrong?"

She placed a hand on either side of his face and made him look at her.

"Not. Today. We'll think about that tomorrow."

"Not today."

They settled for a hug in the end. Toni allowed Jughead to continue to sob into her shoulder from everything that had gone down that day, as she squeezed her eyes shut to prevent herself from following suite.

Because at the end of the day, they were still both kids. Both forced to grow up way to early in a town that was tearing apart from a brewing civil war, in a town that had a kid _murdered_ , with a current masked killer on the loose.

She tightened her grip, momentarily forgetting who the hug was originally intended for.

 _Not. Today_.


End file.
